The John Sheppard Book of Computer Repair
by puddles1311
Summary: What exactly is the “John Sheppard Book of Computer Repair” and what events lead to its creation? I even managed some whumpage! First fic


Hey all, it's puddles! I'm finally getting a story out there, it's been a long time in coming! Here's to all of you that have had this problem in the past! I apologize in advance for John's pottymouth, I couldn't help it!

Spoilers for Intruder... kinda... not really.

Disclaimer: Alas, like all the other inspiring writers on this site, I share the depression of not owning any characters I write about.

Just for clarification, anything in italics are John's thoughts. Enjoy!

**THE JOHN SHEPPARD BOOK OF COMPUTER REPAIR**

puddles1311

John Sheppard leaned back in his desk chair and rubbed at his tired eyes. He glanced at the digital clock sitting next to his laptop. _2:06 AM! _He didn't think he'd been writing for that long. _Stupid mission report! If I could go back in time I would_ not _go on this _three day_ trading mission. Why did Teyla have to volunteer us anyway?And what did we get out of it? Some measly lettuce looking thing.Why did I ever agree to this in the first place?_

…_When my team entered the city we were welcomed by... um... whatshisface... ahhh... Bol... Bol... Bollon? No, that wasn't it. Um... Sounded more like balloon, maybe? Ah...Ballun? Ballum? I'll just ask Teyla in the morning. Back to the begining. When my team entered the city we were welcomed by BLANK and, oh crap! His wife, what was his wife's name. Uh! Okay, skip ahead. On day two we began trading negotiations with the, Hattorons, um... Hettorrons. Okay, I can't spell! Alright, skip ahead again._

And so continued John's life for the next thirty minutes until finally, fifteen long non-doubled spaced pages later…_Yes! Freedom! Sleep! Oh, better save it again. _Sheppard opened the File tab and clicked "Save". He started to move his mouse so that he could click on the "mail" button, but soon realized that the mouse wasn't moving on the screen. _Oh crap!_ He shook the mouse violently, but still the screen remained frozen.

_Crap crap crap crap CRAP! Wait, maybe the mouse just isn't plugged in! _John tipped the laptop to the left and the cord was still firmly attached. _Okay, thats not it. Maybe it just __needs to be cleaned. That's it. I'll just open it up and…_He unscrewed the bottom of the mouse and took out the cool little ball. Setting the ball aside he looked inside, and seeing no dust, became very angry. _Dammit!_ He reached for the ball to put it back in the mouse, but it was no where in sight. _Dammit again! _Sheppard got down on his hands and knees and started looking. There it was, right under his desk. He grabbed it and stood up, but too soon. BANG! _OW! Son of a... stupid desk! They really need to put padding under here._ John crawled out from under the desk and stood up. _Whoa, head rush! _Dizziness crept in and he sat back down. He waited a few more seconds, then stood up slowly this time rubbing the back of his head. He slammed the ball back into its slot and twisted the little round cover back on. He forcefully shook the mouse all over his desk with no result.

_Dammit!_ _All that work!_

_It's okay, it's fine. It's happened before, the file is safe. I'll just, ah, what was it again... oh yeah. Control, Alt, Delete._He looked up at the screen to see that nothing had changed._ Um... again then. Control... Alt... Delete! _BBBBBBEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPP! "Shhhhhhhh! Quiet!" he hissed. "People are sleeping you stupid piece of junk!" The beeping came to an abrupt halt and left John's ears ringing. _Okay then, not doing that again.What's next..._

As he ran through a mental list of possiblities, John decided that his best course of action would be to simply shut the computer down and turn it on again. So taking one last glance at his report he held down the power button for four seconds. He cringed and grimaced as he turned the computer on again, hoping against hope that it worked. _I know I saved it! I must have! I had to have saved it! Please let me have saved it,_ he begged. John fidgeted in his chair as the computer took its time booting up. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists in a vain attempt to help save his report._ Please let it be saved! Please let it be saved, _he repeated. That thought had quite suddenly become his desperate mantra.

When he finally plucked up the courage to open his eyes, he searched the screen carefully, and cautiously tested the mouse. He breathed a sigh of relief when the stylus danced across the screen. _Please let it be saved. PLEASE let it be saved!_ He opened up Word and searched for the file. _C'mon, c'mon! I did _NOT_ just waste three good hours of sleep! NO!_ Sheppard searched for another fifteen minutes, but to no avail.

_Oh, okay. Now I'm mad – and now, I'm _beyond_ mad! I AM SO GONNA KICK YOUR ASS YOU LITTLE PIECE OF MECHANICAL JUNK! _John made a quick scan of the room and spotted a yardstick next to the door. As he picked it up, the doors whooshed open and Rodney McKay stepped in.

"Rodney, what the hell are you doing? It's," John glanced at the clock again, "three o'clock in the morning!"

"Oh, I'm sorry Major, I, uh, I didn't realize you were busy. I'll just, be, um, I'll see you later," he said in a hurry, and rushed back out the door.

John stood still for a moment, then realized with a laugh that he was still holding up the yardstick. _Hahahaha, must have scared him half to death! Oh, I feel better now. _The major walked back to his desk and sat down, still simmering about his lost mission report, and still holding onto his yardstick. With a sigh he decided he had better get back to writing.

_4:13. I am _not_ doing this anymore. No. I give up. I'm done!_ With these thoughts and not half a page rewritten, he picked up the yardstick and aimed. John slammed it down on the laptop with all the force he could muster. Apparently, "all the force he could muster" was way too much force.

The yardstick broke when it impacted the sturdy laptop and half of it came flying back and hit John in the forehead. He went down like a ton of bricks, as the saying goes.

_What the hell was that? What just happened? Uh, my head! _He lifted a finger to touch the aching lump on his head and was suprised to feel a small scab._ Son of a... That damn computer is gonna get it! _He stood up and looked at the offending piece of technology.

He sat down in his chair for a moment, debating what he was going to do with his enemy. _Continue working, throw you off a balcony, continue working, throw you off a balcony...Hmmmm. _With no more hesitation, he chose the latter and picked up the soon to be fish food.

He ran to the nearest balcony and took a last look at the criminal computer. _How could something so seemingly innocent cause so much trouble. Damn computer! _And with that he tossed it over the edge and watched it fall into the ocean with an unheard splash. _Now _that_ was satisfying!_

Feeling much better now that his enemy was vanquished, he strolled happily back to his room, noting that it was now 5:45 AM. _No sleep for me tonight. Okay, now, what do I tell Elizabeth when she asks for my report? Um... I haven't gotten to it yet. No, it's already been a week, that won't work. Um... I gave it to Rodney to look over? Not a chance. Uh... Oh man! _John backtracked and headed for a new destination.

When he reached McKay's lab. He noticed that the ligths were on, a good sign. He knocked on the doorframe and walked in.

"Hey Rodney?"

"Did you come to beat me with another yardstick. Major?" he asked grumpily.

"No Rodney, I just need a favor. Um... can I borrow your computer?"

FIN! ...maybe...

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­­­­­­A/N Let it be known that this is based upon a true story! My old history teacher was very bad with computers. He _did_ have a lot of problems with them, he _did_ hit his with a yardstick, he _does_ have a bump on his head (though we don't know what it's from) and he _did_ throw his computer out of the second story window! I'm proud of my first fic/tear/ 

So please, take time, feed the bunnies and help their fuzzy self esteem! Constructive criticism is very very welcome, tell me I can't write, and I should never try again, heck, just tell me you hate me, I don't care!


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